Chapter Forty

Jen

 

Christmases had been awkward since the divorce. At first, Mom and Dad tried to give Shelley normal holidays because she was so young, but the pain of him wanting his freedom was too much for Mom. Since then, they’d coordinated events so Shelley got time with both parents—though sometimes Dad was away on business before he retired.

As the adult kid, I was caught in the middle, and had obligations to my husband.

Last year, if the snow hadn’t kept them off the mountain, Mom and Shelley were staying over Christmas Eve night and spending Christmas Day with me while Dad was elsewhere with his lady friend, Karen. They’d been together around three years, but he hadn’t married her, unless he hadn’t told me. At his age, I would expect a quickie courthouse thing if any.

But this time, with the wedding, everyone had adjusted their family celebrations to make time for Christmas night. Mom had already proposed doing the meal and presents on the Eve, so we were heading to…brunch? Was ten o’clock late morning?

I woke before Dylan. He didn’t rouse until I ran the hair dryer, but the man did get a workout last night. He shuffled naked into the toilet closet and I paused to take in the view.

Our last day as singles. One last night apart.

He came out, washed his hands, and kissed my neck. “You showered without me?”

“I had to, lazy bones. And I don’t want to be late to Mom’s.”

His hair was a riot of loose curls and his sleepy eyes were still heavy-lidded. “’Kay.”

“I’ll start the coffee while you’re in there.”

He nodded and turned on the water in the stall.

I set the dryer on the counter, turned the coffeemaker on, then returned to finishing my hair. My strands were fine, but I had a lot of them, so it was always work to get fully dry.

I’d also picked up our clothes before he woke. My skirt was a wrinkled mess, but it’d have to wait until we got back from our honeymoon. Same with dry-cleaning his suit.

I heard his voice through the roar of the dryer but couldn’t make out the words. Moved it away from my ear, and chuckled.

“The holly and the ivy

When they are both full grown

Of all trees that are in the wood

The holly bears the crown”

Christmas was infectious. At least if he was singing in the shower, he was awake.

I still thought his voice was good enough to not be limited to background vocals.

What did I want to wear all day…? Instead of staring at the clothes I brought from home, I made sure I was packed for sleeping at Beth’s tonight and double-checked my honeymoon suitcase. If we didn’t forget anything, we wouldn’t be back here until January 2^nd.

I texted Mom: Dressy or casual?

In between? she replied. Festive.

Plus room for two feasts, I reminded myself. Okay, elastic waistband pants that looked nicer than they were and my not-ugly Christmas sweater. Plus comfy boots.

I needed good feet tomorrow.

Tomorrow. Out of sight of Dylan still in the shower, I did a version of the Snoopy dance in the closet. Nerves about everything going right would eventually catch up to me, but right now it was all excitement. I couldn’t wait to become Mrs. Smith.

He walked in wrapped in a towel and opened his underwear drawer. “Aren’t you cute?”

“Thank you. Coffee’s ready.”

“Set the mug on the vanity? You know how I like it.”

He’d put on dark jeans by the time I returned, a nice pair with no rough spots or holes, and ran gel through his curls to tame them. His beard had filled in enough in two weeks to make him look closer to the man I first met and grew to love.

“Forgot to tell you yesterday. My handyman fixed your thermostat. The furnace itself is fine.”

“Oh, good.”

“He upgraded you to something current.” Hair done, he dabbed a little cologne on his neck, then evened up the facial hair with small scissors.

“Thanks. I suppose I don’t owe him anything.”

“Nope.”

A few weeks ago, I might’ve argued about paying him back, but we were about to be partners for life. A small repair bill didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

Presents were by the door waiting to be taken downstairs, along with my luggage, coat, and purse. I had nothing left to do besides wait for him to finish getting dressed.

We were taking two vehicles since I wasn’t going home with him tonight.

“I’m going to start taking things down to my car.”

“You sure?” he called.

“Yeah.” I had to do something with this energy.

By the time I’d returned from putting my suitcases in the CR-V, he was rinsing out his mug at the kitchen sink dressed in a burgundy sweater that matched the base color of mine.

“Ready?” I asked.

“Let’s go, beautiful.” He grabbed the leather jacket he wore the night we met, then picked up the grocery tote loaded with packages.

One last glance at his bachelor pad, then I walked out the door he held open.

In the parking garage, he walked me to my SUV. “Race you to your mom’s?”

“Ha ha.” I gave him a light kiss that wouldn’t mess up my lipstick.

He pulled me into a hug that slowed the moment. “Happy Christmas Eve.”

I gazed up into his pretty eyes. “The best Christmas Eve. Is this cashmere?”

He glanced down to where my fingers were petting his sweater. “Maybe. I didn’t buy at least half the clothes I own.”

I shook my head. “Spoiled rockstar. We’re going to be late if we don’t get on the road.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He stroked my cheek, then released me. “Be safe.”

“Always.” Especially with precious cargo.

In my Honda, I waited for him at the garage exit, then turned onto the road with him behind me. The trek between the two places was pretty familiar since I stayed at Mom’s when I came to L.A. in the early days before I was comfortable with sleepovers.

One thing to fall asleep at the guy’s after sex. Another to deliberately stay a weekend.

There was now a light strand wrapped around the pole under the mailbox. Shelley had been busy since Sunday. I parked in the driveway and Dylan stopped in front of the house.

I plucked her gift out of the tote along with Mom’s and Grandma’s. The rest of the boxes were for later. “Can you ring the bell?” I asked with my hands full.

“Or we just walk right in.”

“It’s not what we do.”

He looked at me like I was a little nuts. “They know we’re coming.”

“Just press the doorbell when we get up there.”

But Shelley opened the door as soon as we stepped on the porch. “Merry Christmas!”

“You have ears like a bat.”

“I’ve been watching for you. Mom said I can’t eat anything until everyone is here and I’m starving.”

“Can’t let you waste away.” Dylan hugged her. It warmed my heart to see them bond.

Lee never treated her as anything other than an annoyance.

I put the presents under the finished tree. “I see some new stuff.”

There was at least one Li Bien ornament added every year.

“Mom let me pick a few at Pier 1. Come on, let’s eat!”

Dylan laughed while I hurried to catch up and we entered the dining room.

A Bing album played softly on the record player.

“Hey, kids,” Grandma said. “We’re doing breakfast buffet, so grab a plate and head into the den.”

I hugged her. “You overruled Mom, I take it?”

Mom carried in a serving dish of Casualty. “She did.” She set the hot pan on a trivet.

“What is that besides cheese?” Dylan asked.

“An old Girl Scout recipe,” Grandma replied. “Chopped bacon or ham, onions, scrambled eggs, and lots of melted Cheddar. It looks like a mess, but it’s damn tasty.”

“And a tradition,” I said. This was Christmas breakfast until I went to college.

“But we also have sausages, fresh fruit, Danishes, and coffee, cider, juice, and milk.”

Grandma shoved a plate into my hands. “Like I said.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dylan replied. He piled up his plate with protein and moved out of the way. Shelley followed. “Beverages in the kitchen?”

“Yep,” Mom said. “Coffee and cider in the carafes.”

My pregnancy nose wasn’t crazy about sausage links and I didn’t want to fill up on sugar this early in the day, so I stuck to Casualty and fruit.

“Did you notice how good I was last night?” Shelley asked. “I didn’t ask anyone for their autograph.”

I laughed at the surprise topic. “I already got them to sign a CD for you months ago.”

“A CD. One. I have every album, Jen.”

“Hey, babe, my sister wants swag perks.”

“Okay,” he replied from the den. She squealed.

“Shelley, we’ve talked about not exploiting this relationship,” Mom said. She was last to serve herself, as always. Grandma was already in the den, too.

We carried plates and glasses into the other room.

“Hey, I’ve been patient!” she replied. “She’s known the band a whole year and I only asked for one album autographed.” She sat on the other end of the sofa since Grandma had her usual chair.

It put me in the middle of the couch. “Which you forced into my purse when you found out I was going to meet them.”

Dylan smiled. “So that’s how that came about. Jen had no idea who I was when we met.”

“That kind of info would’ve scared me off if you led with it.”

“Good thing I’d already charmed you by then.” He kissed me.

“Sausage breath.”

“Sorry.” But not that sorry.

Knock on wood, stuff would continue to only smell bad to me and not make me barf.

I loved how this house looked and smelled at Christmas. Besides the real tree, sprigs of evergreens were on shelves here and there. Decorations were in every room, but not so much to make us look like the holiday-crazy people on TV. Mom set up a small slow cooker every year filled with spices and orange slices and stuff to simmer all day.

Scent memories were the strongest.

It was a typical small-family-that-likes-each-other day. There was no rush since we didn’t have to be at the compound until three o’clock, so we ate and chatted until it felt like present time, then moved to the living room for the tree we finished on Sunday.

Mom crouched to pick out boxes. “Mom, here are yours.” She put a stack on Grandma’s lap. “Jenny. Shell. Dylan. And me.” Once she sat, we opened all at once.

Shelley deafened us with the reaction to her first gift. “VIP!” She launched at my fiancé, nearly knocking him onto me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Shelley Ann Wright, what is this display?” Mom said.

She popped up and bounced. “Tickets!”

“Ah.”

Grandma had plugged her ears with her index fingers. “Is she done, yet?”

“I have to tell my friends!” She ran out of the room toward her bedroom.

“Thank you so much,” Mom said to Dylan with her tone saying the opposite.

He shrugged, not the least bit repentant. “It’s for our L.A. show.”

“She’ll be safe,” I added. “Security takes really good care of all the VIPs.”

She waved off our justifications. “I know, I know. I’m just not looking forward to hearing about it incessantly for the next—when is this concert?”

“April,” Dylan said. “Starting the tour at home.”

“With the baby due in June,” Grandma said.

His gaze shifted to her. “Yeah. We’ll work it out.”

“Let’s table that for the day,” I said. “Shelley! Get back here!”